


Runaway

by ctmamy



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 3, fo3
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 16:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19276954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctmamy/pseuds/ctmamy
Summary: Butch DeLoria hadn't been happy for a long time, not really. But Penelope Bryce could change that.





	Runaway

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one-shot between Butch and my Lone Wanderer OC, Penelope Bryce. I really think Butch likely struggles with himself a lot, and probably with some depression. So I just made this at 3 am lmao. I MIGHT make a full story based on the two of them- but it depends on if people want it ;))) 
> 
> Also this is just my interpretation of Butch! And the nickname "Mama" is something I took from A.C. Slater from Saved By The Bell :)

Butch used the sleeve of his leather jacket to wipe the blood away from his eyebrow. God, he couldn’t even remember why the dude had clocked him in the face as hard as he could, making him fall back and slam the side of his forehead on the stupid old table in the Muddy Rudder. But apparently, it wasn’t his fault, because they didn’t kick him out, they kicked the other guy out. 

His head felt heavy and he felt kind of nauseous, but he took the drink he’d had and sat down to drink it anyway. Blood smeared on his face, not exactly cleaned off well with his old jacket, he looked a bit of mess. And frankly, he didn’t care. 

Sometimes, he felt so empty he didn’t know what to do but drink. And god, he fucking hated that. He hated it because it reminded him of his fucking mom. The women who was supposed to take care of him, but instead wasted their ration coupons on those stupid bottles he’d have to pick up or the glass would end up in his feet. Scars on his hand reminded him of all the times he had to pick up the pieces of one of her angry episodes, his mom passed out in her bed, and glass everywhere.

He scoffed. 

The feeling of the fresh air and the beating sun when he finally left that goddamn Vault was so freeing; a world where everyone was neutral about him. Where no one hated him. God that was an amazing feeling- albeit he knew the reason people had hated him was all because of him. He did it, he created the him that people hated and in turn, he too had come to hate. Not to mention that stupid simulation sunlight they had in the Vault didn’t match the real thing- Vault-Tec really thought, didn’t they?

But when had he ever really liked himself? He’ pretended to for so long he started to believe it. He bullied people, talked down to them, scare them before they could do it to him. It would just be so easy to make fun of him for having a drunk for a parent and not know who his goddamn father was. Before they could do it, he’d scare them out of it he told himself as if justified it. For a while, it worked to sate his feelings, any possible guilt. But now it didn’t.

Probably because you ain’t no fuckin’ little kid no more, Butch, he shook his head to himself and took a sip of the drink. God, it tasted like shit. And he didn’t feel like he was forgetting anything. More like he was remembering more than he wanted to. 

Penelope Bryce, nosebleed. Stupid… no, she wasn’t stupid. She was probably the only person that didn’t make him feel hated even when he didn’t realize it. Even when he had bullied her, pushed her around and talked down to her, she gave him more kindness than anyone in that stupid Vault, even over his friends. She was the one who insisted they just split that stupid sweet roll, and he didn’t want to. She’d even fucking smile at him when he was having a particularly bad day after the night of no sleep because his mom was pissed and drunk. Like she knew he was having it tough; like she cared.

If there was anyone from his time in the Vault he wanted to see again it was probably her. But in this big world, what were the chances-

“Butch!” for a moment he thought, finally, this stupid piss ass drink is doing its fuckin’ job, and he relaxed his shoulders. But the voice seemed much too real to be some figment of his imagination, “Butch, is that you?!” 

There she was. That was her, for sure. Her black hair that he could clearly tell she’d cut herself at some point with a knife or something, trying to keep it the same length it had been in the Vault which was a few inches above her shoulders. It was messy, and so was she. Dirt covered her, but on her face where it looked like she used something to wipe it as best as she could. There was a small scar he didn’t recognize on the side of her face, on her cheekbone and her grey eyes were recognizable but only just. They looked tired. 

He felt that.

But most of all, she was wearing the stupid Tunnel Snakes jacket he’d given to her when she left the Vault; the one he’d worn every day since he was a teenager. Of course, he got a replacement after she left. But that was the original one. 

“If it isn’t the girl who jumped me outta that Vault,” he smirked as best as he could, “I think I owe this pretty lady a drink.” 

Man, you really don’t know how to be anybody but the Vault Dweller Bully, Butch DeLoria, do you? It was him, and he hated it.

The girl in front of him didn’t respond initially, and for a minute he actually felt worried for once about how someone was reacting to him, then it disappeared when she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug so tight, he thought he might pass out. Or maybe it was the alcohol speaking… Or being that close to her. 

It was also something he wasn’t accustomed to. Someone hugging him, let alone with that much passion. Getting a hug out his mother wasn’t something that had happened since he was a kid, and never would he or the other Tunnel Snakes hug one another; hell no. So he almost immediately tensed up and just didn’t know where to put his hands. 

He breathed in and she smelt like a mixture of gunpowder and somehow sweet. And his hands knew where they wanted to be all of a sudden, around her waist and his head ducking down far to her neck because she was so short, and he was so tall. It was only then he realized her feet were barely touching the ground trying to hug him.

“I don’t really want a drink,” she pulled back with a smile on her face, “I’m just happy to see you.”

For Penelope, this was the first time since she left the Vault for the second time after her fathers’ death and Amata’s banishment of her, that she felt some sort of hope and happiness. Butch DeLoria, her childhood bully, a menace in the Vault- and the boy she swore to never judge after the day she heard his mom cursing up a storm at him as a little boy. Something she definitely wasn’t supposed to hear. Butch had had his good moments with her sometimes- though they had been rare. He had a heart even if he didn’t want to show it for fear of having it plastered on his sleeve for the world to see.

She never hated him, even though Amata told her she should. 

“What happened to your face?” her hand reached into her pocket to take out a cloth that wasn’t the cleanest but was cleaner than most things in the wasteland. Like a doting mother, she licked the tip of the cloth and used it to wipe the blood off his face. His face instantly screwed up but before he could say anything, she stopped him, “You know my saliva is probably one of the more cleanly things in the Wasteland, right?”

That was the funny part, she was probably right.

“Oh nothing,” he put on a proud face, “Just a good for nothing trying to mess with the Butch-Man. He’s not gonna bother me anytime soon.”

Of course, he won’t, Butch winced, he’s probably banned from this piece of shit for a while, and you weren’t the one that kicked him out. Look at your face, dumbass.

“Oh Butch,” she sighed, “You’re a mess. But I’m still glad to see you.”

“You don’t look too hot yourself, princess.”

Good one. Dumbass.

Penelope laughed, however, “thanks. We probably look like quite the pair. So… How are you enjoying life outside the Vault?”

Oh, it fucking sucks but it’s better than having everyone around you hate your guts and want you gone. I never realized how empty I was till I was truly alone- “Great- better than being in that goddamn thing for the rest of my life as a barber- which, by the way, who the hell did you let do your hair? Don’t tell me you did it yourself or I might just kill you.”

“A real barber at heart Butch,” she played with a strand of his unevenly cut hair, “I did. There aren’t many hairstylis- barbers out here you know?”

The way she stared at him let him know she was staring into his soul. God, she was good at digging even when she didn’t try. It was like her eyes told him she didn’t believe it was great because if his appearance and the drink left on the table beside a few others didn’t say something, his lacklustre response did. 

“You still want to have that gang, Butch?” Penelope asked after a few moments of silence, “You should come with me. We’ll be a gang.”

“I don’t know if that’s lame, or cute,” ya, don’t outright flirt with her, god forbid, “maybe both. But anything is better than being here anymore- we’ll have the best damn gang out in the Wasteland!” 

With a smile on her face that made his chest tighten, she threw some caps onto the bar counter, probably paying for what he’d drank, and took his arm to pull him outside, “The best gang, of course.”

As she pulled him along behind her, he couldn’t help but stare at her from behind and the feeling in his chest increased. He loved her, he just struggled to realize it. Be it because he didn’t exactly have anyone in his life who made him feel love, or because he was scared, he was seeing it now. And maybe, just maybe, someday he’d bring himself to actually say something to her about it. Hopefully.

“By the way, you really need to let me do something about that thing you call a haircut on your head, mama.”


End file.
